


Zubats, Zubats Everywhere

by RenderedReversed



Series: Pokémon AUs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: "Mareep" Harry, "Zubat" Tom, Attempt at Humor, Caves, Fluff, Harry is sadly used to it, M/M, Mild Language, Non-Chronological, One Shot Collection, PKMNchampion!teasing!Tom, PKMNtrainer!frustrated!Harry, Pet Names, Pokemon AU, Pokemon References, Poor Harry, Tom is a stalker, Tom is undeniably a creeper, making light of sexual harrassment, still trying to cover all my bases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry is pretty sure his Pokémon journey isn’t supposed to have such a copious amount of Zubats—or just the figurative one, since Arceus knows Tom Riddle pops up in his life often enough to be a Zubat in disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StalkerOfStories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StalkerOfStories/gifts).



At this point, Harry’s pretty sure even avoiding _caves_ won’t rid him of the man.

“So what brings you to Mt. Moon, _Harry_?”

“Not you,” the trainer grumbles. It's a lost cause. Harry’s Raichu is already running forward to greet the familiar man with a nuzzle to the hand and a delighted squeak. Tom Riddle smirks and lavishes a considerate amount of affection onto the Pokémon in return.

“Darling, I'm _wounded_. I thought you came with the express purpose of visiting me in this dreary cave. You certainly light up the place.”

“Go flatter someone else,” Harry snaps. There's not enough bite in his tone to warn off the trainer, however, so Tom just laughs. Harry sadly admits that he's gotten rather… _attached_ to the sound. It's… Nice. In a sort of tiresome way, of course.

“I missed you too, _darling_.”

Harry’s half-tempted to chuck a Poké Ball at the smug expression Tom wears, but thinks better of it. For one, on the off-chance that the man is actually half Zubat (as his common encounter rate in caves seems to imply), he might actually catch him—and the last thing he wants is to tote around _Tom_. He sees the man enough without planning to, thank you very much.

As if he can read Harry’s thoughts, Tom chuckles. It's really a shame Harry’s Raichu likes him—the chances of the mouse Pokémon electrocuting him are so much lower than Harry would like.

Harry crosses his arms in a display of impatience. Tom’s smirk grows wider.

“What are _you_ doing in Mt. Moon then, other than stalking me?”

“Why would I possibly have any other reason?”

The massive amount of loose rocks around him is a temptation Harry’s rather close to falling for. Just _one stone_ to the head and maybe that would lower Tom Riddle’s ego (and creepiness levels) down considerably—but of course with how often they run into each other—

Maybe not.

He’d regret it later. Probably.

It takes _far_ too much effort to make himself believe that.

“Has anyone told you how creepy you are? Because if they haven’t, I’m telling you now.”

“I’m rather sure the last person to tell me that was _you_ , darling,” Tom replies with a mocking smile. “A few days ago, perhaps?”

“For Dialga’s sake I _flew_ here, Tom!” Harry finally snaps. “From _Saffron_. Where I ran into you in the Poké Mart. That’s already a two day journey! Are you seriously telling me that you managed to stalk me _in the sky_ without being caught by my Noctowl in that small window of time? _Noctowl,_ a Pokémon known well for its silent flight and _exceptional_ vision?! I’m not sure whether to be impressed with you or panicked enough to call the police!”

 As if there’s something particularly humorous about that last part, Tom tries to suppress a chuckle. It only serves to incite Harry’s incredulous exasperation even more.

“Harry,” he says in a moment of surprising seriousness, “I’m the _last_ person you should be scared of in these caves.”

Harry blinks.

“Besides,” Tom continues, “Fearows are known to have such a gross amount of stamina that they can fly a full day without landing. And if I do say so myself, _my_ Fearow is an exceptional flyer—”

“Fuck you _very much_.”

Harry pushes right past his stalker and continues on into the darkness. They’re on one of the lower floors of Mt. Moon where the light doesn’t reach so easily—the only natural illumination is from some stones in the cave walls and the Paras who rest upon the rocks. Raichu, seeing that his trainer is leaving, gives Tom one last pleased squeak and darts off to light the way again.

Tom sighs dramatically and follows. “Oh don’t be like that, Harry—”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“But _darling_ —”

“No.”

“Harry—”

“Not listening.”

“Really, are you—”

“Can’t hear you.”

“This is—”

“What?”

“I was going to say—”

“Huh?”

“If you’d let me—”

“Weird.”

“Harry—”

“Hey Raichu, do _you_ hear that annoying sound? Like a buzzing noise,” Harry pointedly remarks. “It’s really getting on my nerves. I don’t remember Mt. Moon having any bug Pokémon other than Paras. And they’re usually quiet.”

“Rude,” Tom huffs.

“Oh, for Arceus’ sake!” the trainer pivots on his foot, “You’re as annoying as a… as a… as a _Zubat_! You’re _everywhere_! I can’t make _one move_ without running into you. Your encounter rate _has_ to be one hundred percent or something! And even Zubats are better—you can faint _them_ , but if I attack _you_ that’s considered assault! Fuck _off_ , Tom!”

Something rustles, but Harry’s too busy trying to control himself to pay much attention to it.

Tom, however, does.

“…Harry?”

“ _What_?”

“I _think_ you might want to save this for later…”

“And _why_ is _that_?”

Tom points up. Both Harry and Raichu look, and the light coming from the latter reaches the ceiling enough so to see the mob of Zubats and Golbats nesting and moving about. They’d just been woken up, Harry figures.

“Well, fuck.”

“Run?”

Harry slowly nods. “Run.”

They both take off in the direction they came from, Harry’s Raichu right beside them. Both can hear the sound of wing flaps and angry screeches echoing off of the cave walls as the mob begins their angry pursuit. Harry wonders when Tom started making him lose all sense of his surroundings—so much so that he forgot that he’s in a _cave_.

Well, either way.

“Raichu, Thunderbolt!” the trainer commands, and the super effective electric attack is enough to occupy the mob long enough for Harry and Tom to dart around the corner and up a conveniently placed ladder that neither remembers seeing before. Raichu pops his head up just after, plopping onto his trainer’s lap with a sigh of relief.

Harry idly hugs and nuzzles his partner, bestowing liberal praise and affection for the quick save.

“That was close.”

“ _Very_ close. I thought I was going to be bat fodder…”

The two share a nervous laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Harry blurts. “It was my fault. I have no idea what I was thinking.”

Tom regains his smug expression, and it’s both a comfort and an annoyance to Harry. “I do believe you were thinking of _me_ ,” he teases, “Not that I blame you. I _do_ tend to have that kind of effect on people.”

“I hate you.”

“Besides,” the man continues as if nothing had been said, “if we were really in trouble, I have _this_.”

Harry stares as Tom pulls out a roll of rope from his bag, which he recognizes to be an Escape Rope. Escape Ropes are a wonderful invention that are imbued with the power of an Abra’s teleport move—good for one use—activated on voice command. It’s an essential item for any trainer taking on a cave, and Harry mentally bangs his head on a metaphorical wall when he realizes he forgot to carry one.

His mind had been so focused on Tom when he was at the Poké Mart that he’d _completely_ forgotten he didn’t have any from his last venture.

…Not that he’s going to tell Tom that.

“Don’t worry, darling—I thought ahead and bought enough for both of us. So as long as you stick with me, we’ll be fine.”

Harry curses Tom’s mind reading abilities. If the man isn’t half-Zubat, then he’s _definitely_ half-Abra. And _of course_ he would use it to legitimately stalk Harry—the only one with Escape Ropes is Tom, and Harry isn’t going to chance wandering around without one again. Basically, he’s going to be stuck with Tom for the rest of the cave.

Raichu is inordinately pleased at this result. He wiggles out of his trainer’s arms and into Tom’s, which puts Harry into an even worse mood. So instead of watching his Pokémon be spoiled by his stalker, Harry decides to look around the part of Mt. Moon they’d stumbled upon. The weird part is that he can’t remember ever seeing it before—and Harry’s been here before a _million times_. He’s no stranger to _this_ particular Kanto cave, so why—

Grudgingly, Harry turns back to Tom. The man is a living encyclopedia.

“Hey Tom, where are we?”

Tom blinks and looks around too. “Well… You know… I don’t know.”

“Could the Pokémon have made a new section?” Harry wonders.

“Perhaps—but this quickly? I haven’t heard any news about it, but we just got here by that ladder—clearly someone’s been here…” Tom suddenly tenses. “Harry. Stay close to me.”

“Wha—I swear to Arceus, Tom, if this is another one of your—”

The serious look on Tom’s face makes Harry trail off and accept the hand holding his wrist without further complaint. Something is going on to make Tom look like _that_.

Raichu senses the change in mood quickly. He leaps back onto the ground allowing both trainers to stand and then positions himself as front guard of their party of three. Tom takes out a Poké Ball from his belt and enlarges it, but does not press the button again to release whatever is inside. Now that Harry thinks about it, no matter how many times he runs into Tom, he can’t ever recall seeing a member of the man’s team even though he’s _sure_ Tom is also a trainer (instead of, say, a Ruin Maniac or a Hiker).

“Be on your guard,” Tom murmurs to him.

Harry wrinkles his nose. “No need to tell me twice. I _can_ battle, you know.”

“I know.” The straightforward reply surprises him, but before Harry can voice a question, Tom is moving and tugs him right along.

Farther into the cave, Raichu perks his ears and Harry instantly knows there’s something up ahead. When his partner’s left ear twitches twice, Harry knows it’s not just some _thing_ —it’s some _one_ , or multiple _someones_ if the case may be. He tugs on Tom’s sleeve to relay the information, a tad grudgingly so but Harry would rather take his chances with his familiar stalker than whatever weirdoes were deeper in.

They continue cautiously, moving with silent footsteps that only experienced trainers could ever perfect. Harry hears a distinct male voice followed by a female’s, obviously in some sort of argument, tired and upset.

“Boss is going to _kill us_ if we don’t bring back any moon stones!” the female hisses.

“I _know_ that,” the male snarls back, “why else do you think I sent our Pokémon out to find a Clefairy?”

“This is all because _you_ dug in the wrong section! I _knew_ we should’ve tried the far left entrance instead—”

“Oh _suck it up_. That wouldn’t have worked and you know it. Clefairy appears in the _center_ of Mt. Moon, not the damn entrances!”

“Then why aren’t there any moon stones here?!”

“Hell if I know,” the man grunts. “Those damned pink fluff balls are probably hoarding them somewhere. Man, _when I get my hands on one of those_ —”

Tom and Harry peek around the corner. Raichu has cut off his light completely as to not alert their company to their presence. It helps that the two—dressed in suspicious matching black clothing—clearly need light as much as the next person in the lower floors of Mt. Moon. Their lanterns are sprawled on the side, knocked over from when their argument had gotten a lot more physical than what it was now. It’s enough to give the trainers a good idea of what the two look like though.

 “Our Pokémon are useless,” the woman complains. “Why don’t we ever get the _good stuff_? Always just Rattatas and Geodudes and Zubats, and Koffing and Ekans and all the _gross_ picks. Why can’t I get something like a Rapidash or a Vaporeon? I _hate_ weak, ugly Pokémon—”

Harry’s a word away from throttling the woman when Tom purposely steps out from the corner and into their light.

“Well what do we have here?” he purrs. “Two Team Muggle grunts, all on their lonesome. What to do, what to do…”

Team Muggle? The name sounds familiar. Harry momentarily forgets his anger and tries to flip through his memory to find out where he’d heard that name before. And then it hits him—Team Muggle, the group that had been at large in Johto region a few months ago! There was something about a theft at a Johto Pokémon lab, followed by a weird occurrence at Lake Rage. Gym Leader Cedric Diggory had struck them down _real quick_ at that last one, but the former had been successful and it had been all that anyone would ever talk about the month that it happened.

What are they doing here? And how come Tom recognized them so quickly?

“Who the fuck are you?!” the male grunt shouts.

Tom’s smile is tight and eerie in the dim light of the cave. “Probably your worst nightmare right now. You’re under arrest.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?! Geodude, show ‘em who’s boss!”

Harry moves on instinct. “Raichu, Focus Blast!” The attack hits the rock Pokémon just as it materializes outside its Poké Ball. It’s a one-hit knock out for sure, he knows; super effective _and_ against a Pokémon that clearly hasn’t been well-trained? Easy.

The female grunt fumbles for her own Pokémon, but by that time (and plenty of time it is) Raichu has already darted over and smacked the Poké Ball from her hand. Tom’s smile grows a tad bit softer at that, though Harry doesn’t see.

“ _Like I was saying_ ,” Tom continues, tossing his Poké Ball into the air and catching it with one hand, “You’re under arrest, by warrants _directly_ ordered from the Elite Four and their Champion, as well as by the police force of Pewter and Cerulean City.”

“And _who’s_ going to arrest us?”

Raichu growls, sparks of electricity radiating from his cheeks and tail. The grunts move backwards until they bump into the cave wall.

Tom smirks. “Well, if you would be so kind as to stay _right there_ , the gym leader of Pewter is _personally_ on her way.”

* * *

“There you are!” Harry turns around and sees, lo and behold, Cho Chang round the corner and walk toward them. He knows very well that she’s the Pewter City gym leader—he has the badge and did indeed battle her early on in his journey—but… well… Harry hasn’t exactly _believed_ Tom’s words until now.

“Cho?”

The gym leader blinks in surprise. “Harry! Oh, good to see you! It’s been awhile since you visited. What are you doing here?”

…They also dated, for a time.

Tom narrows his eyes.  “He’s here with me,” he says, stepping forward even as Harry opens his mouth to argue the point. He came to Mt. Moon on his own for his _own_ purposes, thank you very much—

“Tom! Right. Where are the—?”

The man waves over to the wall. “There.”

“Oh, nice. Two of them. Hey guys, I found them!” Cho turns and calls behind her back. Harry hears the sound of heavy footsteps and echoing replies. He recognizes two of Cho’s gym trainers in the group of four, the other two being policemen. What ensues next is the most anticlimactic capturing of criminals Harry has ever seen (not that he’s seen many, but still).

Tom watches on with an overseeing eye. Harry notices and frowns, walking up to him and asking, “You know the Pewter City gym leader?”

“So do you,” Tom returns, “And so do most trainers who take on the gym battle challenge.”

“But you call her by first name—”

“So do you,” Tom returns again, and Harry concedes the point.

“We used to date,” he explains. His stalker’s eyes glare out into the darkness at that. “…So no ‘so did we’?”

Tom snorts. “ _Please_ darling, you know you’re the only one for me.”

That throws Harry completely off. He hasn’t been expecting the remark what with the serious air, and so Tom’s sudden teasing catches him by surprise. The trainer blushes, splutters, thanks Mew and Arceus and Rayquaza and all the legendaries above that they are in a cave and it’s dark and Tom most likely can’t see his face very well.

It’s the first and last time Harry’s _ever_ thankful to be in a _cave_ with _Tom_.

Said trainer smirks.

_Blasted mind reading!_

“Oh Harry,” Tom purrs, “If you were insecure about my affections, all you needed to do was _ask_. I would’ve happily showed you how much I _care_ about you—”

“I don’t want your bloody _care_! Holy—may Zapdos  _strike you down_ —! Tom, get your bloody hands _off_ of _me_ —Raichu, Focus Blast this bastard—”

His partner surveys the situation and squeaks. When Tom _clearly_ isn’t being beaten up by his Pokémon for sexually harassing him, Harry has enough time to shout a “traitor!” toward the mouse before fully concentrating on fleeing from his stalker’s advances.

“Come now, darling—no need to be shy—”

“You’re a bloody _menace_ , Tom! You hear me?! As bad as a Zubat!”

“And _you’re_ as _adorable_ as a Mareep, Harry—fluffy and innocent and so _corruptible_ —”

“Get the hell away from me!”

“Mmm… but your hair is so _soft_. Like Mareep wool. I just want to fall asleep on it—”

“You _weirdo_ Zubat! I _swear_ I’m never going into a cave _again_ —”

Tom darkly chuckles. “Oh, _that_ won’t save you from _me_ —”

While his trainer play-squabbles with his stalker, Raichu wanders over to an opposite corner of the cave, sniffing around on the ground. He finds a loose stone, grabs it, and slowly extracts it from its resting place. The stone glows a milky white, and the Pokémon rubs one yellow cheek against it as the glow fades.

Harry will be happy, Raichu squeaks. He’s found what they came to Mt. Moon for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I know what I'm doing anymore...
> 
> .......................................................I really love the idea of "Zubat" Tom and "Mareep" Harry okay. It all started when I stared at a Zubat and was like "no one likes you. You're not even that cute." But the more I stared at it the cuter it got, until I thought, "You're really annoying. Like a stalker!Tom would be. OhsnapHEYwaitasecond--"
> 
> And then I got this image of a shiny Zubat (which is green), and realized that's perfect to symbolize Tom in a totally unexpected way. Plus that means later on I can make Harry get a shiny Zubat plushie and hug it at night when he camps out in the woods. Like that's so adorable woahhhhh.
> 
> ...And Tom will have a plush pocket Mareep charm that he totally clips onto his pants and totes around like a badass Pokemon champion, I mean how is that not awesome. Someone tell me because I have found ZERO reasons for this NOT to happen. Other than the fact that... like... I don't know what I'm doing anymore...
> 
> So yeah. And sorry for the many tags even though this is a really short oneshot LOL. By the way someone needs to tell me if I cross over boundaries and my fics get too weird for you guys okay. THERE'S A POINT OF NO RETURN AND I CAN'T TELL WHERE IT IS.
> 
> P.S.: For those of you who don't know Pokemon, this is a [ Zubat.](http://cdn.bulbagarden.net/upload/thumb/d/da/041Zubat.png/250px-041Zubat.png) And this is a [Mareep.](http://cdn.bulbagarden.net/upload/thumb/6/6b/179Mareep.png/250px-179Mareep.png) And this is a [Raichu.](http://cdn.bulbagarden.net/upload/thumb/8/88/026Raichu.png/250px-026Raichu.png)


	2. Chapter 2

Long after Tom becomes the Pokemon Champion of Kanto and Johto, he meets the trainer he wishes he would’ve met on the journey there.

Harry Potter is...well, there are a lot of things he can say about Harry. He’s a good trainer—Tom knows even though they haven’t battled yet; he can see it in the way he moves, talks, thinks and treats his Pokemon—an even better adventurer. Harry Potter goes where he pleases; he anchors himself in one town for no particular reason and can leave the very next day on a wish and a whim.

A person like that, Tom knows he won’t meet in a lifetime. Harry Potter is that miracle-in-retrospect that one sees, maybe touches, then never finds again. He moves around so often that the only way to contact him is through a combination of prayers and e-mails—the latter to send the message, the former to hope that he _gets_ the message. What _makes_ Harry a miracle is very difficult to say—he’s not the extraordinary sort that someone would make an altar for; it’s one of the things people would just know...one of the things people could _only_ know after they’d met the man.

And that’s exactly why Tom is so surprised when they meet again. And again.

...And again.

And again, and again, and again, and again…

Well, in retrospect, it’s really not hard to see why Harry thinks Tom is a stalker.

The first time they run into each other, Tom is investigating some newly uncovered fossils found in Diglett Cave, which is interesting on its own because no one thought anything had ever lived there _but_ Digletts and Dugtrios. Harry is naturally passing by, using the cave for its original purpose of connecting Pewter and Vermillion City.

Harry strolls off the lit path, chasing after his Raichu. Coincidentally—their relationship is founded upon coincidences and misunderstandings—he bumps into Tom, Tom drops the fossil, Harry by reflex catches the fossil, gives it back, apologizes and then leaves.

It had been dark. Tom only realizes that their second meeting is actually their _first_ meeting because of a weird sense of deja-vu.

The second time they run into each other, it’s also quite literally. Tom can’t stand the stuffy Pokemon League and does everything he can to stay _out of it_ (his paperwork, of course, is dumped on his unwilling Elite Four), so he takes it upon himself to solve a weird case of Swinub acting strangely in Ice Path, near Blackthorn City.

Sliding along the ice inside, Tom ends up bumping into Harry when he runs out from behind a large rock. He’s a little miffed, a little not because the layout of Ice Path ensures that these things happen. Luckily, _he’s_ the one with the quick reflexes this time and catches Harry before he ends up sprawled on the ice.

“Thanks,” Harry says, fumbling a little as he tries to right himself on his own two feet. “Though, if you’re planning on going farther I recommend you don’t. The Swinub are _stark-raving mad_ today, and—”

“That’s actually what I’m here for.” Tom cuts him off, bemused until he figures out Harry doesn’t know who he is. _A trainer_ who doesn’t know the face of the Kanto and Johto Pokemon Champion? Highly unlikely, but there’ve been more impossible things that’d happened to him before.

“Oh...You’re a Pokemon Ranger?”

“Of sorts, I suppose.”

Harry lights up like Christmas came early. “Thank Arceus! _Here_ , _you_ take it—it’s your problem now!”

He shoves something into Tom’s arms before dashing away. Only when he’s completely out of sight does Tom look down.

It’s a piece of NeverMeltIce, which he only finds out later on (after a horde of Swinubs chasing him, several angry Piloswines, a few avalanches and one seriously pissed mama Mamoswine) is the cause of the trouble...along with three idiots who decided it would be a great idea to steal from Mamoswine’s herd.

“And we would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for some monster trainer and his damn Raichu!”

“...Cedric, deal with them.”

“Eh...no problem, Tom. By the way, Bellatrix is looking for you. She said she needs you back at the League.”

“I’m on important business.”

“ _Right._ Well, if you need more ‘important business’ to attend to, I heard Azalea Town is in a bit of a tight spot.”

“Hm.”

He doesn’t meet Harry again at Azalea Town. He _does_ , however, meet him on his way back from it—in Union Cave, on his way to the Ruins of Alph.

“Ah, it’s you! From Ice Path!”

“Yes, where you abandoned me to the mob of Swinub,” Tom agrees dryly. “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah...Sorry about that. Haha. I mean, a normal trainer like me probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything, y’know? So I thought I’d trust an experienced Pokemon Ranger with it…”

Tom is reminded of the phrase ‘monster trainer and his damn Raichu’. Indeed, said Raichu sits comfortably in his trainer’s arms looking like the perfect picture of contentment.

“I’m Harry. If you’re heading to Azalea Town, maybe I can treat you to some coffee as an apology?”

Thinking back to it, Tom wishes he could turn back time to hit himself on the head. He really should’ve said yes, even though he was heading in the opposite direction. It’s the first and last time Harry would ever willingly ask him out to coffee…

Unfortunately, the archaeologists over at the Ruins of Alph had said things were urgent, and the reports certainly mirrored their opinions. Tom is _actually on_ a Pokemon League-level mission. So he says no. He shouldn’t have, _really_ shouldn’t have, but he does. Ah, the missed opportunities...

“Actually, I’m working at the moment…”

“Oh...okay. No problem. Thanks again, y’know for the Swinub thing.”

“Think nothing of it. All part of the job.”

And. Also in retrospect...he really should’ve told Harry his name, but who would’ve thought they’d run into each other again?

* * *

Tom finds out later—far, far, far later; so much later that the stalking debacle has been cleared up and is no more than a joke—that the reason he first started to suspect Tom was a stalker was because of his friend, Hermione.

“...You mean you met this person in a cave? _Both_ times?”

“And, er, I think there was a third time too. In Diglett Cave…”

“Harry, are you sure he isn’t stalking you? That sounds awfully dangerous…”

Maybe if Tom told him his name before, then he could’ve told Hermione, and then Hermione might’ve connected it with the Pokemon Champion Tom Riddle going around doing good deeds.

Well, that obviously doesn’t happen.

* * *

“Uh. Well. I talked to my friend Charlie…”

Tom blinks. That’s a strange way to start off a conversation, especially with a familiar stranger.

“You’re not a Pokemon Ranger, are you?”

“Not at all.”

Harry squints. Tom stares back.

“Okay. Well. I’m going now. Somewhere else. Hopefully far away.”

“...Have fun.”

Harry leaves, taking his bright Raichu with him. Once more engulfed in darkness, Tom shrugs and continues digging. He’d heard a rumor that a trainer found a Shuckle in Dark Cave, and there’d been a request to investigate.

(He took it before any of his Elite Four could redirect the request to the Pokemon Professors.)

* * *

“Hermione. I met him again.”

“Who?”

“ _Him_.”

“...Where?”

“Dark Cave.”

“Harry, I’m buying you a bottle of pepper spray.”

“What, no!”

* * *

Eventually, Tom starts to get curious about Harry on his own. After all, Harry is always caught up in some trouble—some way, some how—and he thinks part of the reason they run into each other so often is because Tom goes _looking_ for trouble.

Is Harry the cause of it, or is he just always in the wrong place at the wrong time? Tom becomes determined to investigate.

“Tom, you’re the _Pokemon Champion_ , not a lowly detective!” Bellatrix screeches.

“It’s not like you all have any trouble beating the challengers anyway,” Tom says. “I might as well dedicate my time to something meaningful.”

He ignores the pile of building paperwork, despite the fact that all of the Elite Four simultaneously turn to look at it.

* * *

When Tom falls in love with Harry is the exact same time Harry is convinced that Tom’s a creepy stalker.

“Raichu, _Thunderbolt_.”

Harry’s voice is calm, quiet as his rage stirs in silence. The way he spits out his words is like the ocean foam crashing against the seaside cliff, and when his partner sparks beside him, mirroring his anger with everything he has, they are a pacific thunderstorm together among the fallen buildings and growing fire.

Terrorists. Terrorists after _Pokemon_ —Tom learns that this is what Harry hates most; a happy coincidence, because Tom hates them too.

The pokeball that the Team Muggle grunt once held rolls away, and Tom stops it with his foot.

“Need some help, Harry?”

The trainer’s head snaps at the sound of his voice. “You again…Didn’t I just see you in Cerulean Cave?”

“How cold,” Tom says with a laugh. He bends down to pick up the pokeball, tossing it in his hands before catching it. “I’m here for the same reason you are. One is enough to punish the dogs; the rest are tending to the wounded and putting out fires. But, you know what they say—two heads are better than one.”

“Are you stalking me?” Harry asks, tone as blunt as his words. At this point, in this place, it’s such an insignificant question that it makes Tom laugh again. Among the wreckage, the injured, and the dead—both Pokemon and people alike—it’s the question that makes the least sense.

He loves him a bit for it. Not a lot, just a bit. Probably not even enough to be called ‘love’; Tom only starts calling it that in retrospect, because respect? Harry’s earned his respect a long time ago.

This is his first time seeing who that ‘monster trainer’ is. He’s run into Harry loads of times, but this is the first time Tom sees him in action—he feels a desire to ‘investigate’.

So instead of saying no, Tom doesn’t say yes either. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

Harry huffs, turns away, and acts as if he didn’t just accuse the dual region Pokemon Champion of stalking him. “Do what you want.” _This is more important._ Before Tom can get in another word edgewise, he’s already run off to hunt again.

Tom hums. “One is enough to punish the dogs,” he mutters to himself, “so I suppose I’m protecting the punisher.”

The Pokemon inside the pokeball is a Lapras, and who knew Hydro Pump and Thunderbolt was such a lovely combination? Harry has the ruthlessness of a hurricane and Tom is right there beside him.

* * *

After the terrorist attack on Celadon City, he doesn’t see Harry for a long time. It’s disappointing; Harry’s anger had been delicious, a complement to Tom’s own without unleashing a more violent beast. All the terrorists they managed to catch are still alive, for one; captured and being put through interrogation, yes, but they’re still breathing and that’s probably better than any restraint Tom could’ve shown alone.

Because of the lack of his familiar stranger, Tom grows antsy enough to make his Elite Four nervous. They give him some diplomatic job to do in hopes that another region can deal with him until he’s back to normal.

Tom takes it because he doesn’t want to do any more paperwork anyway. The next day he’s on a boat to Hoenn region, and the week after that (after all the pleasantries are finished, of course), he’s exploring Meteor Falls at his leisure.

“...Ah,” Harry says, no longer a vicious Manectric but a docile, put-out Mareep. “Dear Ho-Oh, what’ve I done to deserve this?”

Tom smirks. “Why Harry, what a _coincidence_.”

Harry _did_ say he could do what he wants...

* * *

“I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Great, stop following me!”

“You’ve misunderstood; we’re simply headed in the same direction.”

“Tom, I just _walked in a circle_.”

“Oh, are you lost, Harry? Don’t worry, I have enough Escape Ropes for the both of us—”

“Who wants to hold your rope?!”

“I could think of some other things you’d want to hold— _ouch!_ Did you just throw a Zubat at my face?”

“Go to hell, you creepy stalker!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> egad i am so done with this one like I started writing it maybe in September???? But somehow it's only 2k because I got stuck.
> 
> Still, I figured it was ok to put up in the end since it was kinda conclusive. Should've been longer, but... ./shrug
> 
> Also you might notice I deleted the Series and instead posted this as a second installment to Zubats. Erm. Well, I couldn't think up of a good name (or a summary...you might now see why this didn't get finished for a very long time), so now Zubats is a collection of interconnected oneshots. Not chronological by any means. Whoops.
> 
> I hope you guys had a good New Years + Tom's birthday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift to [StalkerOfStories](http://archiveofourown.org/users/StalkerOfStories/pseuds/StalkerOfStories).

Celadon City is home to  _ the _ shopping center of Kanto region. To be honest, Tom doesn’t really have any interest in shopping—he doesn’t really catch Pokemon anymore, so he never needs to restock on PokeBalls, and the PokeMart at the Pokemon League has all the consumables he’ll ever need.

As for TMs and HMs, the League also supplies in a large vault. What could he possibly want at Celadon that he can’t get anywhere else?

Well, unless it’s the closest market.

Tom has just finished up his visit with Indigo League’s Celadon Gym Leader, Fleur Delacour. She’s a relatively new Gym Leader—compared to the others—and so his check up is to make sure everything is running nice and smoothly. Normally a representative from the League would drop by, but Tom has slowly become known as the ‘Pokemon Champion of the People’...which means he does everything.

Only his Elite Four know it’s because he doesn’t want to do his paperwork.

Fortunately, Fleur is a good match for the Grass Gym. She’s polite and firm, treats him with proper respect but does not throw away all her dignity in front of him. They’ll get along fairly well. Before leaving, he tells her to start calling him ‘Tom’, which serves purposes other than appearing friendly.

The only people who call him Tom are the Gym Leaders and his Elite Four—trainers that he acknowledges are strong and worth his time. If anyone hears her calling him ‘Tom’, no one will dare stir up trouble against Celadon Gym’s new leadership. It saves time and trouble, as far as he’s concerned.

After finishing his tea and biscuits (and of course the mandated check up), Tom leaves and finds himself in dire need of more Max Repels. It’s been awhile since he’s returned to the League, so it isn’t surprising in the least to find he’s running low. Well, the only PokeMart that’s nearby is Celadon Department Store...so it looks like he’s going shopping.

Tom goes in, gets his Max Repels (thank sweet Ho-Oh they’re only on the second floor), and then decides to make a quick stop to the roof. The Rooftop Atrium has a few popular vending machines that have a chance to give an extra free drink, and while Tom isn’t one to be bought into these sort of marketing schemes, he does admit Celadon’s special Lemonade is worth the elevator ride.

Besides, his Froslass is fond of the cold drink, and there’s little in the world that Tom is willing to deprive his Pokemon of.

He walks into the elevator, seeing another shopper there. The current destination is the fourth floor and Tom decides he’ll just walk from there instead of click for the fifth. He doesn’t quite remember what’s on the fourth floor, but—

Oh. Right.

“Wiseman’s Gifts” the sign reads. Tom thinks he’s been here a grand total of  _ one _ time ever, and that was only because the evolution stones were on this floor. Before becoming the Pokemon Champion, he didn’t have the League’s stock of every Pokemon item ever, and so he’d had to settle for Celadon Department Store’s stones.

If he remembers correctly, he’d bought one of every stone just in case. Huh...well.

Tom heads for the stairs to the fifth floor. Before he heads up, something catches his eye.

“How much is that?”

Tom points to a green Zubat plushie sitting on a display. Most Zubat plushies would, of course, be blue, but he knows there are some producers that make shiny colored Pokemon plush toys as limited edition merchandise. The plush toy looks like it’ll be just enough to sit comfortably in his hands—not too big, not too small—and the way it sags slightly from its sitting position emphasizes its chubby belly bump.

Tom can admit it’s cute. And the first thing he thinks of when he sees it is Harry.

It’s funny, really;  _ Tom _ is the one being called a Zubat, but he thinks of the person who calls him that instead.

Harry likes cute things, he knows. It’s not like the man’s ever told him, but Tom can tell. He wouldn’t be a proper stalker if he couldn’t.

“Ch-Champion Riddle!” the female cashier squeaks. She bows her head hastily in respect and then composes herself. “It’s a limited edition shiny Zubat plush, not for sale unfortunately. The company only made ten, distributed to various popular department stores to be a prize in a contest. In fact, it’s the grand prize for our lottery this week! Would you like to try? First try is free, and all successive tries are 150 pokedollars.”

The cashier says her lines like a script, but Tom can tell she’s genuinely excited and proud of having the plushie in the store. Tom supposes it  _ is _ a rather big accomplishment—Celadon might be Kanto region’s center of shopping, but there are other regions that place a bigger focus on their luxury markets. Kalos’ Lumiose City, famous for their high-end shopping district, and Hoenn’s Lilycove City, home of the first Pokemon Contests, out-ranked Celadon by far.

First try is free. Tom shrugs. “Why not.”

The woman pulls out a large box from beneath the cash register. It has a page of paper glued to its front, showing different colored circles and their respective rank.

“Our lottery is very simple! You draw a ball, and whichever color you get tells you your prize rank. Blue is the most common, then comes green, then red, then so on so forth. A gold ball—of which there is only one in the box—is the grand prize, and silver and bronze are second and third place. You can win anything from our shiny Zubat plushie to rare TMs and luxury PokeBalls!”

“You hold these every week?”

The woman nods. “It’s not always on this floor though, and it’s not always the same type of lottery. This time, since the grand prize is the Zubat plushie, the big boss let our floor host it. You can find a sign on the first floor that’ll tell you where the next lottery is being held.”

Tom nods politely but has no intention of coming back to participate in the next one. He doesn’t really need TMs or PokeBalls, or really anything else. Besides, even if he does, his salary is enough to buy what he needs and some.

Without further ado, Tom sticks his hand inside the box and wonders if Harry’s ever participated in one ever before. The man’s been everywhere so he doesn’t doubt it. He wonders if Harry’s ever won something…

“Oh,” the woman says, struck dumb.

Tom stares. Then, he laughs. “I guess he’s my lucky charm after all.”

In his hand is a small golden ball with wings and a crown drawn on it.

* * *

There’s no rush in tracking down Harry to give him his gift. They’ll run into each other eventually. Tom carries the Zubat plushie at all times, letting its head stick out of his pants pocket for the world to see.

The Elite Four give him strange looks. Tom laughs the sort of laugh that only means trouble.

“Doesn’t it look like me?” Tom asks, holding it up to sit on his shoulder.

No one dares to answer that one.

The building’s PokeCenter nurse walks by. She stops and does a double take when she sees what the Champion is holding.

“Isn’t that  _ the _ limited edition Gringotts shiny Zubat plushie? There are only  _ ten _ in existence! Sir, where did you get that?”

* * *

Despite the fact that Tom is all for the ‘wait and see’ method, he still keeps his eyes and ears to the ground in hopes of hearing news about his elusive little Mareep. Finally, he hears that Minerva McGonagall, former Elite Four now oldest immortal Gym Leader of Olivine City’s steel type Gym, is hosting a guest.

Apparently said guest is popular for battling the trainers there, and even Minerva. Though, it’s apparent that the guest also already has a badge and is really just battling for fun. He attracts quite a crowd, daring to use a Raichu of all things against steel types and even going so far as to put himself in similar type disadvantages against others.

Anyone coming by to ask him to a friendly match is usually accepted, and Minerva, normally a strict Gym Leader enforcing the rules, lets it slide in all good fun.

Tom knows immediately that it’s Harry. He finishes up what he’s doing and takes a flight on his Fearow straight to Olivine. Hopefully Harry will still be there—if he isn’t, then Tom’ll just ask around and start doing some stalking.

* * *

Tom grins. “Hi Harry.”

Said trainer sighs. “Hullo Tom,” he grumbles. “What brings you to Olivine?”

“To see you, of course,” Tom says, ignoring the expected, ‘ _ of course you are _ ’ reply. “I have a gift for you.”

He expects Harry to be surprised, at the very least. Pleased would be a welcome expression. Thrown off tilt and confused would be even better. Tom  _ doesn’t _ expect Harry to look rightfully offended, which he does.

“Okay, now this is just creepy,” Harry exclaims. “How did you know today was my birthday?”

The Pokemon Champion mentally registers the date in his head. July 31st...he’ll keep that in mind for future use.

“What kind of stalker would I be if I didn’t know that?” Tom says with a shit-eating grin. He can see Harry’s hand twitch for something to throw at him. “Mine is December 31st, for the record.”

“I didn’t ask for yours!”

“Well now you know.” Tom takes the Zubat plushie and thrusts it into his arms. “Happy Birthday, Harry. It’s so you’ll always think of me, even when I’m not there.”

The look on his face is priceless. “When are you  _ not _ here,” Harry grumbles, which infinitely pleases the Pokemon Champion to the point where he’s already making plans for Christmas. 

“...Thanks.”

“Want to go out for coffee with me?”

“No.”

* * *

“...Tom?” Lucius asks hesitantly. The Pokemon Champion is in an  _ extremely _ good mood, probably even better than when he got that shiny Zubat plushie...which is surprising, because said plush toy is nowhere in sight.

“Yes?”

“Where...Your Zubat seems to be missing.”

“Oh,” Tom says. “Yes, it was a gift for someone that I was holding until I ran into them again.”

“Ah.”

Bellatrix squints. “Who is this... _ someone _ ?”

“Why, my cute little Mareep, of course. The whole world is his pasture, but I’ve given him a collar so I’ll always know where he’ll be.”

Lucius blinks. Then, he slowly shuffles through his papers until he finds one in particular: an inventory check, with a post-it note telling him that one of their prototype miniature trackers has gone missing.

* * *

Even though it came from his stalker, Harry doesn’t have the heart to throw it away. The shiny Zubat plush fits in his arms perfectly, and its velvet coat is the softest he’s ever felt. The silly trademark grin all Zubats seemed to have combined with the tiniest of slumps forward makes it  _ adorable _ —wings curling forward, chubby belly protruding...it’s just so  _ huggable _ !

And if there’s anything in the world Harry likes to do, it’s to cuddle with things. He wonders if Tom knows  _ that, _ too…

Harry would probably carry it around all day in his arms if not for the fear that he’ll run into Tom. So, during the day he keeps it safe inside his backpack while at night he brings it out to hold while he sleeps. It doesn’t mean he likes Tom any better, but he has to admit that the man knows what he likes. Stupid stalker.

He’s at Celadon visiting his friend Fleur—who has just recently settled into the Gym Leader position there; he’s proud of her since he knows that’s been her dream ever since coming to Kanto from Kalos—when he makes a stop at Celadon Department Store. Harry’s here to buy some special Celadon Lemonade, but the lottery sign also piques his interest so he heads to the fourth floor.

“You’re having a lottery?”

“Yes sir!” The female cashier greets him with a smile. “The grand prize this week is this cloud-coat Mareep plush. It’s a new addition in Gringotts’ cloud texture series, guaranteed to be extra soft! Would you like to try? First is free, then each successive attempt is 150 pokedollars.”

The doll sits on the display with its round, beady eyes, stubby soft feet and cuddle-ready yellow coat. Harry knows he wants it—actually, it kinda makes him think of Tom...not that it looks anything like the man (the Mareep is  _ way _ cuter, thank you very much), but he always goes around calling Harry a Mareep, so…

Harry blinks, his vision a bit blurry despite that he’s wearing his glasses. He takes them off and wipes the lense quickly. Beside him, Raichu squeaks in curiosity.

“Ah, nothing. I just felt like...hm. A sense of  déjà vu, I guess ? It’s nothing.”

He turns back to the cashier. “Sure, I’ll try.”

“Alright. These are the prize rankings…”

Harry shrugs, sticks his hand in, and then searches around a bit until he finds a ball he likes. Raichu squeaks encouragingly at his side. He wonders what Tom would say if he told him about this. Then again, the man  _ did _ give him a Zubat plushie for his birthday…

Hm, speaking of Tom, he wonders what he would look like walking around with a Mareep plush clipped to his pants like a PokeBall. The size of it isn’t too big, bigger than a phone charm but smaller than his Zubat, and he can’t imagine it would be too heavy either. Would it kill Tom’s reputation to be caught wearing it like that? Actually, Harry doesn’t even know if Tom  _ has _ a reputation; he assumes he does because Tom walks like an important person, but—

“This one!” he exclaims.

“Oh my,” the woman says.

“Oh,” Harry echoes.

In his hand is a small golden ball with wings and a crown drawn on it.

“...Sorry, but do you happen to have some thread, a needle, and a keychain link for sale, too?”

* * *

“Dear Mew,” Lucius mutters as he sees Bellatrix running toward him.

“Lucius! Have you seen what Tom’s wearing?”

“No,” Lucius replies, disinterested but knowing his fellow Elite Four won’t drop the topic if it’s about their Champion. “What?”

“It’s the Zubat all over again!” Bellatrix exclaims. She waves her arms around to emphasize her point. “Except this time, it’s a Mareep!”

“...Tom has a shiny Mareep in his pocket?”

“It’s not shiny,” Bellatrix clarifies, “and it’s not in his pocket. It’s  _ worse _ !”

All of a sudden, said Pokemon Champion walks by. Lucius has to admit, the plush toy is rather...eye-catching, hanging off his belt like that. Did Tom develop a taste for cute things on a mission somewhere?

“It’s so  _ cute _ ,” Bella moans. “What will the challengers think? We’ve got to save Tom’s reputation! You know, I heard the PokeCenter nurses gossiping about it this morning. They were giggling and squealing and  _ Tom’s supposed to be feared _ not...not  _ giggle material _ !”

“Yes...well. Hm. You should tell him, then.”

“I don’t have a death wish! He said he got it for his birthday! Tom  _ hates _ his birthday, but he’s happy for some reason which means whoever gave it to him is a walking Ho-Oh-blessed miracle, and—”

Lucius sighs. He only manages to escape Bella an hour later when a challenger comes.

* * *

“Y-You’re still wearing that?”

“Of course I am. You gave it to me, after all.”

“That doesn’t give you permission to stalk me all the way to Sinnoh!”

Tom smiles. It’s a little bit too mocking for Harry’s taste. “Darling, I’m working, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w o w you guys are getting spoiled today.
> 
> So recently I gave StalkerOfStories permission to write a fic based on this verse! It's called [Plushies and Phone Charms](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5737144/chapters/13220761), and you guys should check it out!!! (If you can guess from the title, it's coincidentally similar to this chapter here! Haha, I swear it's an actual coincidence!)
> 
> This chapter is actually dedicated to them. So, enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

In the Pokemon world, it’s only natural that Pokemon trainers take the spotlight. Every person in any region would always have one point in their life where they think, “I want to be a Pokemon trainer.”

Not all of those dreams are meant to last, or even come true. Fate builds the strangest paths for people to walk on, after all. Regardless, wherever the future takes them, people’s lives will always be tied to Pokemon.

Take, for example, the concept of the Pokemon Champion. It is incredibly misleading to think that whoever defeats the Champion _becomes_ the Champion. How else do they have such incredibly long reigns? That word too is inaccurate; Pokemon Champions are not in any way, shape, or form _kings_ , though they do represent their own regions in diplomatic relations.

The role Pokemon Champions take on is a fairly large one: not only do they help manage the region alongside the government, but should any disaster come forth, it is only natural that they lead the combat team to take care of that disaster. The Pokemon Champion shoulders the hopes and dreams of the people, all connected through Pokemon. There’s more to being a Pokemon Champion than excelling in the arena.

They are champions of both people and Pokemon. Then, whoever takes up the mantle of Pokemon Champion could be said to support the entirety of their region upon their shoulders. Even if they are defeated in battle, in the hearts of the people they remain the Champion. As such, whoever defeats them may be granted the title of ‘ _honorary_ ’ Pokemon Champion—fighting at the very end of the Gym Challenge—and later should they wish, they may take up the mantle when the current steps down.

The difference between a Champion and a king lies in their nature: a king protects their subjects, and their subjects grant their king status in return. On the other hand, while a Champion _may_ have a say in the government—and they do have certain jobs and obligations to it beyond what a normal citizen may have—their immediate responsibility is to protect the ties between people and Pokemon.

In that, they straddle a line; the government’s responsibility is to the people and for the people, treating Pokemon as no better than pets. Champions, therefore, are granted certain immunities in order to fulfill their role, which may or may not go against the people’s advantage in order to protect Pokemon. This line is not an easy one to walk—when they are praised, sung songs about and made odes to, the next day they can be ridiculed and villainized for doing their duty.

One Champion before Tom, the Pokemon Champion had been an old man named Albus Dumbledore. His Elite Four had been composed of Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and for the brief span of one month before Albus’ retirement, Severus Snape.

The Elite Four serve as the Champion’s advisors; while they too are expected to possess a prowess in battling, their role much mirrors the Champion’s. As such, it had been surprising that Albus, in his old age and long reign, had to experience one of his Elite Four retiring before him—one Horace Slughorn. To further surprise, Severus Snape had been considerably younger than his fellow Four, barely an adult at the ripe age of twenty-three compared to the thirties and even forties that the other three sported. 

However, upon reviewing his qualifications, no one would dare argue. Severus started his Pokemon journey at the age of ten, as was allowed under the old laws in Kanto and Johto. He then proceeded to rush through the gym battle challenge in a short span of three years, one of the unofficial fastest runs. The reason why it was unofficial is even more shocking than that—before challenging the Elite Four and Champion, there was a two year gap between collecting the badges and stepping into the Indigo Plateau.

 _Why_ there was a gap, no one knew. But by the time he recovered and won, he was fifteen years old, a month away from sixteen. Then he disappeared again, only to be found under the mentorship of a famous Pokemon Nutritionist. Due to the connections of his mentor, he was then recruited to become a member of the Elite Four at age twenty-three, though retired—as per custom—along with his Champion but a month later.

After retirement, an Elite Four member has the qualifications to do as they please. Their license remains active, which means they could go almost anywhere in their region—such as dangerous areas like Mt. Silver. Very few choose to remain with the League, having had their fill of battles for one lifetime, but some such as Minerva McGonagall become the exception.

For Severus Snape, he has chosen to settle down as a Pokemon Nutritionist. His previous reputation earned as an Elite Four combined with his genuine talent in Pokemon health and training has brought customers from other regions all seeking his advice. Contrary to popular belief, Pokemon food and nutritional care is _not_ just for Contest participants. Any _good_ trainer will know that their partners’ diets are just as important as skills for battling.

To sustain such an active lifestyle, it is of utmost importance the Pokemon get the proper food and vitamins that match their battle methods. Pokemon that rely on speed require a different diet than a bulky Pokemon that relies on endurance to win a match. Pokemon Nutritionists, then, hold a very important place in a trainer’s circle of supporters.

Severus’ clients are usually high profile, though it is said that he never turns down an earnest request. As such, his customers range from Pokemon rangers, who risk their lives daily alongside their partners, to ordinary shop owners and PokeCenter nurses, all the way to trainers and coordinators.

His talent and dedication thus make it no surprise that he is close friends with the current Pokemon Champion, despite being old enough to be Tom’s father. Well, Tom has never allowed himself to be put into an inferior position, so it’s more likely that Severus forgets how old his friend is than looks down on him for it.

Besides, Tom is probably his _only_ friend never mind the closest.

“Is this the visit where I finally get you to join my Elite Four?”

Severus doesn’t bother turning around. He knows what he’ll see—Tom will be leaning against the doorway, which is unlocked as usual, arms crossed and perpetual smirk plastered on his face. He always looks like that when he comes to visit. It’s a little known fact about him, but the Pokemon Champion loves to be a vicious sort of playful—kind of like a predator who isn’t quite hungry yet, playing with his prey until he works up an appetite.

...It’s not always easy remembering why they’re friends.

“No,” Severus says, stirring his newest concoction with eyes on the temperature gauge.

Tom sighs, sounding put-upon. “That’s one word I’ve heard too much of recently. Can’t you give me a proper answer?”

“A proper answer befitting the Champion, you mean?” Severus asks. His lips curl into a sneer. “I’ll give you one once you start caring.”

“So not anytime soon, then? Pity.”

“Is this a pleasure visit? If it is, you know I require appointments for that.”

Tom laughs and steps forward, throwing himself on the closest plush sofa. Severus doesn’t look, but he can hear the body collide with the cushions. Tom’s purposeful lack of decorum is to annoy him.

“Get your feet off the coffee table,” he orders without looking.

“I thought that was what friends were for,” Tom complains. “What’s the use of them if you can’t even rest your feet on their coffee table?”

Severus doesn’t bother rising to the challenge because he hears Tom lower his feet. “If this is a pleasure visit, go make an appointment,” he repeats.

“What do you know about James Potter?”

The second the name leaves Tom’s lips, Severus turns off the stove. He pivots on the balls of his feet, glaring with a chilled black gaze that could rival any veritable Ice Beam. Tom sits unperturbed, fingers laced resting on his crossed legs. They are complete opposites in that the stiffness in Severus’ shoulders is absent from Tom’s, and where one stare meets the other is like a brick meeting a wall.

“If you were anyone else,” Severus finally says, “I’d have thrown you out by now.”

“I know,” Tom says, perfect picture of pleasant, “that’s why I asked. If it’s worth being thrown out over, that means it’s good information.”

Severus sighs. It’s a sharp, harsh blow of air that sounds like the hiss of a dragon instead. “Wait there,” he orders.

Tom smiles. “May I have some tea?”

“Make it yourself,” Severus tosses over his shoulder. When Tom laughs and actually stands up to make some, Severus gives up and just lets it all happen. He thinks he’ll need some tea for this talk anyway, and Moltres knows he’s not in the mood to make any.

“So,” the Pokemon Champion begins once they’re all set, “James Potter. Don’t crush your tea cup.”

“ _First_ , I think I deserve to know why you want that information. I doubt it’s for curiosity, and I’ll tell you for nothing less but valid usage.”

“Usage?” Tom raises his eyebrow. “Hm. The man’s dead—I know that much, at least—so why you would want me to blackmail someone using this information is truly beyond me. You hate him so much you want to spit on his grave, too? Well, I’d give you the address to it but someone might hate me for it...besides, you probably know it anyway, don’t you?”

Severus’ nostrils flare. “I do,” he allows. “What I will tell you is the farthest thing from a _bedtime_ _story_ , which I suppose you’ve already guessed. I will not pass this information as information to be stored away. If you want it, you must have a purpose for it.”

“Severus, old friend, you want to know?”

“I _expect_ to know,” is the spat answer.

Tom shrugs. “I wouldn’t be a very good stalker if I didn’t know about my little Mareep’s parents, now would I? By the way, your tea cup is tilted so I think you might want to put it down before you spill your tea.”

Severus glances down, sees that Tom’s right, and takes a sip before he follows the suggestion. He immediately backtracks as well—five seconds ago he was demanding information, _now_ Severus wants to know if it’s worth it. “Do I want to know?”

“You _expect_ to know,” Tom echoes with a wicked cackle tacked on to the end.

 _Of course_ he would come out on top. Severus wants to bang his head against a wall. This is Tom Riddle, after all. He should’ve known him well enough to expect some sort of twist like this.

“Alright, _fine_. Tom, what are you doing?”

“I’ll add a question,” Tom says. “What do you know about Harry Potter?”

Severus considers dumping the tea and getting something stronger from his cabinet. Instead, he sits in silence for a good minute before saying, “Not much.”

“And the reason why _you_ of all people ‘don’t know much’ is because you don’t _want_ to know, correct?”

“I’m sick of this conversation already,” Severus says in lieu of a real answer.

“Excellent,” Tom says. “Well, my cute little Mareep has gotten himself into a fair bit of trouble as of late—more than usual, actually—and I was just _dying_ to know why. So I did what I do best—I investigated a little. But really, there’s nothing better than a primary resource, as I’m sure you understand, so I came here. Pleasure and business mixes rather well when that pleasure originates from the business, no?”

Severus’ eyes stray lower to the plush toy hanging from his companion’s belt.

“Do you want the whole story?”

“Arceus _no._ I want everything _but_ the whole story,” he declares.

Tom leans back, pleased. “You’re his godfather.”

“One of them. Substitute. In case the other one dies or something.” Severus motions vaguely. “Lily loved to make backup plans. She liked to make sure she was prepared in case anything ever went wrong. It made her battles brilliant to watch—her opponents always failed to make her panic.”

“And this was one plan you refused to go along with,” Tom surmises. “I can respect that.”

“Is he…” Severus pauses. “That’s a foolish question,” he mutters then, “since you’re associating with him.”

“He’s in the hospital,” Tom says. “I wouldn’t have left, but his friends came and, grouped together at least, they were of adequate strength for me to leave and do a bit of digging. I don’t like being caught by surprise—pleasant surprises having to do with him withstanding—so you can imagine the rush.”

“I wasn’t told.”

“You haven’t had news of him since the day his parents died. You weren’t called now because one he’s an adult, two he specifically asked for you not to be alerted. Imagine my surprise when he uttered the name of my good friend Severus—he was half conscious and I was so angry my Pokemon felt it in their PokeBalls. You’re lucky I did my own research before coming here, otherwise you might’ve had to come out of retirement for an impromptu battle.”

“I’m honored,” Severus says without any feeling at all.

Tom continues with, “As you should be. He said, and I quote, ‘Don’t let Uncle Sev know. He doesn’t really like me, and he’ll like me even less if he knew I got into trouble again.’ Your name was on his record, so I stopped them from making a call. In that, you are _very_ lucky that _I_ was the one who brought him to the hospital, otherwise I’m afraid your brewing might’ve been interrupted a week ago.”

“As eloquent as ever. Yes, I suppose the disruption would’ve been...unwanted,” Severus says. He doesn’t want the alcohol anymore, he realizes—this is one conversation that should happen sober. “So you’re his stalker then? Officially or self-proclaimed?”

“If you mean I have the legal documents for it—restraining orders and all—then no. But I have a collar for him, if that’s what you mean. The leash he can do without—Harry isn’t meant to be restrained.”

“His _father_ was the same,” Severus says then. “No one thought he’d ever get married. He spat on commitment and stomped it into the ground. I suppose women would like that type.”

“Even your Lily?”

Has Tom gone too far? A part of Severus thinks yes, and another part of him thinks no. He’s never talked about it before—there’s never been anyone to talk to, Albus perhaps being the exception but they hadn’t talked that much about it. The old Pokemon Champion had a brief, friendly acquaintance with the Potters, but nothing anywhere near Severus’ entangled relationship.

“Lily was better than any woman he ever hoped to find. Better than any man, too. Meeting her was a commitment in and of itself—” Severus pauses, trying to find the right words, “—To him, she was probably the type of miracle that only came around once every ten lifetimes. What do _you_ think happened?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Tom shrugs. “I’m surprised. At this point I would’ve thought your hate would be suffocating. Instead, all I hear is bitterness. Do you not like the tea?”

The tea has gone cold a long time ago.

“It’s adequate.”

Regardless, Severus drinks it.

“Why does your godson think you hate him?”

‘Because I do’ is the first thing that comes to mind. Severus doesn’t say it. Instead, he replies with, “Not my godson. You should know that. _Draco_ is my godson.”

“You’re on his contact papers.”

“Sentimentality,” Severus automatically answers, “he got it from his mother. In Kanto-Johto, I suppose I _would_ be first contact. Black is in Hoenn.”

“And how do you know that?”

His hand stills. “Didn’t you say I know _everything_?” he asks, tone half pedantic half mocking. “I might’ve refused to go along with her plan, but it’d be a cold day in Hell before I do Lily such a disservice. He was a happy child,” Severus adds suddenly, “Lacking everything of his father. When she died she took everything of her with her.”

“In your opinion,” Tom remarks.

“As acrid as ever.”

“But I’m not wrong. You may’ve known his parents better, but I know _Harry_ better. Or do you want to argue that, old friend? Between the two of us, _you_ might be more upset than I, but only because of the topic we’re on. I’m rightfully furious. He carries a picture of you in his wallet; do you know which one? I can show you. I have it right here.”

Without waiting for Severus’ answer, Tom takes something out of his pocket and slides it across the table. It’s a picture of them—of he, Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus, with Harry in the middle—that he knows well. At the time, he’d only gone along with it because Lily had _begged_ him for one picture, just one of them all, and when Harry had hugged his leg and looked up at him with those same eyes, how could he say no?

‘ _You hate me_ ,’ James said afterwards, away from the crowd. ‘ _Maybe I hated you too, but that was a long time ago. Now, Severus, I have nothing but the most profound respect for you. Respect, and gratefulness for the family I have today. You are not my friend, but I hope we can be someday. Thank you. For everything.’_

“Well? How about it? Would you like to go see your godson?”

“He’s not my godson,” Severus repeats, even as he stands up and goes to fetch his Swellow.

* * *

Upon arriving at Goldenrod City’s hospital, Tom leads and they bypass the front desk entirely. Severus walks just as quickly, long strides betraying his impatience and anxiety. They’d flown here in a rush, a journey that took a good six hours from Severus’ current house in Cherrygrove.

When they get to the room, the door is cracked open, so Severus looks inside and sees—

“You told me he was in the hospital!” he hisses to Tom.

The Champion smirks. “He is. This is a hospital, and he’s in it.”

“You told me he was _hurt_. That the hospital was going to make a call—”

“Oh, they were. Not to you though; they were going to call a Pokemon Professor since he inhaled some poisonous gas from a Victreebell. Fortunately, I’d experienced that once before and stopped them since it wasn’t actually serious. Just a bit of delirium before it clears out of the system.”

“...So when you said he was half-conscious—”

“He was,” Tom says, expression bright and mischievous. “From the poison. Then I knocked him out.”

“...I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not. Smile,” Tom says before he knocks on the door.

Harry, and the rest of the occupants, turn around, their immediate attention leaving the Pokemon wrapped in bandages on the bed. Clearly they’d gone to the hospital instead of the PokeCenter since there seems to have been a need for surgery—the bandages are thick and layered on, while the Noctowl’s wing rests in a splint.

“Uncle Sev?!”

Harry’s own arm is wrapped in bandages, though at least it’s not in a cast so the wound isn’t _that_ serious. He gets up off his seat, rushes to the door and Severus knows he can’t escape now. Instead, he shoots a glare at his smug friend before being assaulted by a one armed hug.

...That he hugs back, no one says a word.

* * *

“...It’s not my birthday.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a gift on _any_ day. Say, tomorrow, want to get some coffee with me?”

“ _Zapdos almighty…_ Alright, fine, _just this once_.”

“Ha. I’ve heard that one before.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh so I got suddenly inspired, so you're getting treated with another installment. RIP Alan Rickman, the only Severus Snape I will ever, ever be able to picture.
> 
> I guess that's why this chapter appears so heavy in the beginning. Anything having to do with Severus' back story is usually kinda heavy in my fic (sorry it's a trend I can't help, especially if Potters are dead). I really like incorporating other HP characters in this verse though because I wanna see how many I can fit and where they go LOL.
> 
> Not sure if this will ever get revealed, but basically my headcanon for this was Severus and James coming from the same hometown, being rivals kinda like in the games. They knew each other way before Sev met Lily. Severus does meet Lily on his journey though, and he falls in love with her over time--a cute puppy love since he was only like eleven then. When Lily inevitably meets James, you can imagine the love triangle that eventually comes to life before the eventual Mrs. Potter gets together with her future husband. Lily could only ever see Severus as a brother, so it really was no question of who she'd marry :/ poor Sev.
> 
> Fun fact: the person who officially has one of the fastest run throughs of the league challenge is actually James. He and Severus were pretty neck-and-neck, but then after a falling-out with Lily, Severus quits battling until they rebuild their friendship (thus the 2 year gap). During that two year falling out, Lily and James grow closer as friends, which builds the foundation for their future marriage. T_T
> 
> Sorry if you think this chapter is kinda boring! I'm a real sucker for dialogue. I can't seem to stop when I start...
> 
> Edit : I fixed a few things to ensure timeline was not too wacky. Flow of the chapter should still be the same though; just a few minor details fixed.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry wakes up sore and naked, the absolute _best_ way to start the day of course. Ha.

At first he doesn’t know why he’s awake. Then he realizes he doesn’t know where he is either, and what time is it again? His throat feels gross and a cup of water would go a _long_ way right now. Actually coffee sounds really good too—black and gross exactly the way he doesn’t like it, so he’ll have an excuse to dump an absurd amount of sugar cubes in it.

...Water first though. Cold. With ice. His cheek is burning right now, which is weird because the other side of his face is rather cold, probably from the chill in the room. Huh, he wonders why the—

Harry glances down. Naked chest. Naked Tom. Couch.

_Oh. Ooooh. Right._

It all comes back to him now. Classic. They’d spent a late night in Tom’s office, and then after finishing their work—well, _Tom_ working and Harry being forced to stay with him—they’d gotten a little...no, _Tom_ had been the one who started it, and Harry’s competitive spirit had made it into a battle of who could outlast the other.

This couch is really too small for two people, Harry muses. Still, he doesn’t move. His body aches and he feels like there isn’t anything in the world that can move him. He’s as good as a Snorlax blocking the middle of the road.

Still, it would be nice if he could find out what time it is. Harry glances around, though his head stays motionless. On the wall in front of him, right above the door, are two blinking lights: one red and one blue. The constant beeping sound must’ve been what woke him up earlier. Harry remembers what the lights and sound mean—Tom explained it to him the first time he came to his office a long time ago.

The blue light is present in each of the Elite Four’s offices, and they’re synced up with each others’ too so when it’s on in one room, it’s on in another. When it’s on, that means a challenger has come to face the Elite Four, having successfully passed through the region’s Victory Road and is now on their way. The red light is only present in the Champion’s office. It signifies that said challenger has successfully defeated the Elite Four and is now on their way to challenge the—

...The Pokemon Champion. The one that Harry’s sleeping on.

Yeah, _that one_.

“ _Zapdos spare me_ ,” Harry curses. “Tom, wake up, you lazy bastard! _Tooom_!”

Tom bats away the hand that’s shaking him. “Hmm...sleep, Harry.”

“Wha—no! There’s no time to sleep! You’ve got a challenger! Come on, wake up!”

“Sleepy...it’s fine. You just go.”

“...Are you _mad_?! Tom, this is serious! Bellatrix will murder me six ways ‘til Tuesday if she finds out you _slept_ instead of battle this kid. Wake up!”

The Pokemon Champion has the nerve to _yawn_ and roll over. Harry is tempted to push him off the couch—on second thought, he does, or well he tries to. Tom is nothing but stubborn and he fails miserably.

“You go,” Tom mumbles. “‘Is fine. Y’r strong. Pokem'n on the table. Battle well.”

“‘Battle well’? ‘ _Battle well’_?! ‘Battle well’ my ass! Tom, there is _no_ _way_ I can battle for the _Pokemon Champion_! Even if I was blessed by the legendary Swords of Justice themselves, I’m just an ordinary— _Tom_! You asshole!”

Upon realizing Tom isn’t even listening to him and _fell asleep_ , Harry gives up and knows he has to do something. Thank Jirachi the mechanics to get to the Pokemon Champion’s room are long and flashy—it’ll give him some time to think something up. If he goes to fight— _hypothetically_!—then he can’t just go as himself. What’s he supposed to say, “Pokemon Champion is happily sleeping in post coital bliss, sorry but I’m substituting”? This wasn’t some tag team match!

...Well, he and Tom have similar builds and similar sizes. He _might_ be able to pull it off, as long as the challenger doesn’t see his face. But if he wears Tom’s clothes, he can’t wear a mask along with it. That’d just look stupid and Bellatrix would chase after him yelling and screaming about ‘ruining Tom’s reputation’. Hmm…

But the Pokemon League participants usually wear flashy outfits anyway. It’s practically a fashion show out there! The Gym Leaders are excellent examples, and the Elite Four usually take it to the next level. Harry asked about it once, and all he was told was that it ‘built atmosphere’ or something.

All of a sudden, Harry has an epiphany. Bellatrix had, in the past, made Tom an ‘outfit befitting a Champion’. Though he’s never worn it, Tom’s also never thrown it away. It should probably still be in his closet somewhere... _ah-hah_!

Harry pulls out the black clothing and guesstimates that it should fit. Along with it is the main reason why Harry remembers it—it comes with a black hooded cloak, several layers and made to look like something a super villain would wear. Well, Bellatrix _does_ have the strangest tastes...he’s not complaining now, though!

Never has he ever gotten ready so fast before. Before running out the door and through the secret passage to Tom’s ‘throne room’, Harry reaches for his belt on the table. He stops midway because he realizes that using his _own_ Pokemon would be impossible. Neither of their teams share Pokemon, so it would be too obvious if he uses his own team! That said, would Tom’s Pokemon even obey him?

Well, there’s really no time to second guess. Harry grabs Tom’s belt and dashes through the door.

 _Sorry_ , he thinks, clutching onto the belt, _I’ll make it up to you guys if this all works out. Victini bless me_!

* * *

Tom wakes up slightly irritated that Harry’s not there with him. Still, he supposes that maybe his lover went to get something to eat. In that case, he just hopes Harry brings back something for him, too. He’s kind of hungry.

...And gross. Definitely gross. Tom shrugs and takes a quick shower before getting dressed and heading out. He bumps into Lucius in the main hallway, who doesn’t even greet him. Instead, his Elite Four gives him a very strange, befuddled look. Tom realizes he’s equally confused.

“...Lucius?”

“Tom, you finished your battle that quickly?”

“What battle?”

“The one you...there was a challenger. He beat all of us, so I activated the alarm.”

“There wasn’t an alarm going off,” Tom says slowly, trying to recall. “And I certainly didn’t—”

 _Oh._ _Ooooh. Right._ Woops.

“No,” Lucius is saying, “I clearly set it off. And it was turned off as well about half an hour ago, so _someone_ should’ve received it. Ah, there’s Bella. She’ll tell you that I—”

Bellatrix does indeed approach. “Tom! You finished your battle that quickly?”

“I think I’ve made someone very angry with me,” Tom says instead of a proper reply. He turns on the balls of his feet and heads toward the Pokemon Champion’s room. Two of his Elite Four rush after him in confusion.

They take the shortcut that only the Pokemon League members are privy to. Really, the only people who actually use the front door are the challengers, since the elevator and the long pathway and the _everything_ make it such an unnecessary journey. Inside, they can hear the sounds of battle.

Tom motions them behind a pillar to watch. Within a few minutes it’s clear who’s winning and who’s losing. Using _his_ Pokemon, Harry commandeers the battle like there’d never been any question—he backs the challenger into a corner and watches as his opponent’s moves become increasingly desperate, doesn’t stop until they’re hanging on by a thread.

Actually...this is Tom’s preferred method of battling. Well, rather it should be Tom’s preferred method of _entertainment_. Against most opponents, the best way to derive the most fun is to drag things on and watch the other struggle. This is the complete opposite of Harry’s style—Harry is quick and explosive, unyielding with a pressure that never recedes until his own victory.

That he can so effortlessly mimic Tom’s style...really, Tom wants to laugh. He settles for a smug expression instead. This is proof that his lover meticulously observes him, after all.

“Arbok, Earthquake,” Harry commands. It’s his voice, not Tom’s—that much can’t be masked—but it mirrors Tom’s intonation and attitude nigh perfectly. In the arena, Arbok obeys without question, and so the battle ends a good hour and some minutes after it began.

The challenger in question is a woman, probably around the age of twenty three. She is no longer a child, but her complete defeat has her on her knees close to tears. She’d come here, beat all the Elite Four and was on her way to victory...key word, _was_.

Behind the real Pokemon Champion, both Bellatrix and Lucius stare at the man in the cloak with some degree of fear and awe. They know personally how strong the woman is—they’d fought her and lost. However, her defeat now is complete; in comparison with her six fainted Pokemon, Harry’s fainted count is a grand total of zero.

What other word can be used in a situation like this?

“Strong,” the woman says, voice wavering as she gets back onto her feet. “You’re really, really strong.”

“Did you expect any less from the Pokemon Champion?”

“No, sir,” she answers. Her gaze stares straight across the arena with no small degree of respect and determination. “I didn’t. Thank you for the battle. I’ll definitely come back to challenge you again!”

She doesn’t have a very good view of his face, but she can see the smirk so characteristic on Champion Riddle’s face.

“I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

After the challenger leaves, Harry really wants to copy her and fall to his own knees. He just wants to sit down and laugh, because it really worked! Through the entire battle, he was so worried that he’d be found out he tried to keep his commands short and clipped.

Fortunately, after so many friendly battles with the Champion himself, Harry generally knows his battle style. Thus, he knows how his Pokemon have been trained to reflexively do. It’s a good thing, too, because the whole time Harry figured Tom would definitely be angry if any of his Pokemon fainted, so he played it more defensively than he's used to.

He supposes it’s also a good thing that the challenger wasn’t very strong. In Harry’s opinion, she was a one-trick ponyta—her entire battle plan consisted of slowly setting up, so at the end she could take her opponent by surprise and hit them fast and hard. Once Harry figured out what she was doing, it was easy to play around it and come out on top.

If he’d gone against a harder opponent, who knows how this could’ve ended up. Arceus had pitied him and blessed him, Harry thinks.

He lowers his hood with a sigh before leaping down to the arena toward Arbok. The Pokemon greets him by tickling his nose with her tongue, impatiently asking for pats.

Harry graciously acquiesces. “You guys were great,” he praises, acknowledging her as the leader of Tom’s team, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I’ll definitely make you guys tons of poffins to eat as a reward!”

“If you keep spoiling my Pokemon, they’ll like you more than me,” Tom says, coming out from behind the pillar. “Well done.”

Harry’s smile spills off his face like water down a cliff. “ _You_ !” he shouts, not forgetting to return Arbok to her PokeBall before marching over. “You! _Well done_ ? _Well done_ ?! Do you have any idea what you put me through?! What if she actually won?! I don’t have your trainer ID to bring her into the Hall of Fame! You are _so_ lucky right now, Riddle, that this actually worked, because if it didn’t I wouldn’t hesitate in punching you in the face!”

Instead of backing away, Tom smiles and wraps his hand around Harry’s raised fist, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Thank you, darling. How about I treat you to breakfast at Wigglytuff’s?”

Harry’s sharp intake is audible. Tom _knows_ he loves their treacle tarts, damn it! “Never. Again,” he hisses, poking Tom in the chest with his other hand.

Tom laughs. The two forgotten Elite Four members make the wise decision to slip out now, while they still can. It’s best to just pretend they didn’t see anything—nope, never saw a thing. Who just battled the challenger now? Why, it was Champion Riddle, of course! Bella had finally convinced him to try on her champion outfit, yes...that’s the story they’ll tell everyone in case anyone ever asked.

“I don’t know, I rather like seeing you sit on my throne—”

“Tom. _Never again_ , and I mean it.”

“ _Fine_. But love, you shouldn’t doubt your capabilities. Who walks away with a win half the time?”

“ _You_ ,” Harry says, clipped and to the point. He turns away and is about to leave before Tom pulls him back.

“The _other_ half of the time,” Tom clarifies. He doesn’t even allow room for a reply before swooping in.

Harry sniffs. Too much like a Zubat, this one, but eventually every trainer ends up catching one anyway in hopes of training it to usefulness...Knowing Tom though, he’d purposefully never evolve into a Crobat just to spite him!

“Still you, because whenever I win, I’ve already lost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> l o l so the original ending for this is actually Harry stomping off back to Tom's office, and Tom following him. They end up doing some R stuff, but since T is my letter, you guys will have to use your imaginations for that c:
> 
> As you can see, this is where that not chronological order thing comes in! This is a oneshot collection, so chapters will not follow a linear timeline. Welp. This installment specifically takes place after the stalking 'misunderstanding' is cleared up and nothing more but a joke (as mentioned in the 2nd installment), aaand Tom and Harry got together. Awhile ago. 
> 
> Also Tom has an Arbok that he raised from an Ekans egg. Not named Nagini, but you all know who she represents at heart :')


	6. Chapter 6

The Pokémon League has its own aviary to accommodate its worker’s bird Pokémon, for those who prefer keeping their friends out of their PokéBalls. Tom, who owns more than one flying-type himself, also takes advantage of the establishment.

There are very few times he goes out with his full team, and even fewer times when said team is the same one he uses in official League challenges. Not only is it a matter of principle, it’s also just a point of giving his companions a break. Not all the Pokémon he owns enjoy the battling lifestyle, and he’s not the sort of trainer who will force his friends to do what they don’t want to.

Take, for example, his Froslass. She makes a killer ice-type on the battlefield, but battling is not in any shape or form her passion. Tom had found her wasting away in the mountains surrounding Snowpoint City; her trainer had died in a snowstorm there, and her fellow Pokémon had perished as well one by one.

Being immune to the hail that had taken her companions’ lives, she had stayed there lonely and miserable even after she found the way back to civilization. Tom had wooed her with plenty of Poffins and a proper funeral for her trainer and friends. She’s followed him ever since, from her home in Sinnoh all the way to Kanto, despite the fact that battling—which her old trainer had loved—makes her uncomfortable nowadays.

So Tom usually leaves her in the ice Pokémon facility, in good company with the other League ice Pokémon. Sometimes she comes with him on non-hostile jobs, like journeys to Ice Cave or patrolling the countryside, but for the most part she stays at the League. Tom doesn’t mind; as long as she’s happy, there’s no problem. That’s part of being a trainer—his Pokémon are his friends; they aren’t tools, and to respect them is to respect their wishes and inquire as to their desires.

Which brings him back to the aviary. His primary flying-type Pokémon in battle is a Skarmory, who just about loves battling as much as Tom does—no small feat there. Skarmory usually stays at the League, willingly participating in mock battles on his own or assisting the other workers with said mock battles. He’s an old wizened thing, but tell that to his face and he’d have no problem showing who’s boss.

When Tom caught him, Skarmory was already considered a well-aged Pokémon for his sort. Still, he was the most vicious of his flock, and after Tom had proved himself in battle, Skarmory had insisted on being caught to battle beside him.

In order to keep his battle maniac of a bird Pokémon happy, Tom usually leaves him in the League aviary, so whenever a battle’s to break out, Skarmory can have his fun. On most trips outside he takes his Fearow, who admittedly is a faster flyer anyway—and he knows that because they’ve had multiple competitions, silly competitive birds that they are.

 She’s resting in the aviary when he comes to visit, sitting at the very top like a queen overseeing her subjects. Skarmory is beside her, perched in his awkward sort of crouch-squat. His neck cranes like a Mandibuzz, the eye that doesn’t have a scar running across it opened wide and glaring. That’s his normal expression though. Upon seeing him, they spread their wings and descend in a smooth, orderly fashion. Tom can’t help but smile at their approach. More than well trained, his Pokémon are well synchronized with each other.

Despite their fearsome appearances, both Fearow and Skarmory are suckers for pets. Tom acquiesces, using both hands to smooth over their heads and necks. Fearow’s feathers are soft and warm, while Skarmory’s cold metal cools his hand.

After the proper greeting ritual is finished, Tom says, “You two seem to be doing well. Which one of you is up for a trip to Viridian Forest?”

Skarmory makes an inquiring noise at the back of his throat.

“No job. I’m going to visit Harry,” Tom replies. That’s probably the only information his Pokémon need at this point—they’re all well aware of his, er, _interest_ in the trainer.

Skarmory and Fearow trade looks. Eventually, it’s the latter that stays while the former flies back up to his perch. Tom returns Fearow to her PokéBall and waves farewell to his other bird Pokémon. Skarmory’s not too interested in fighting bug types, it seems—anything short of a Scyther’s strength is too easy for him.

“Now, to find out what my cute little Mareep is up to…” Tom is humming as he leaves, and the few League employees he crosses paths with flinch at his positively ecstatic expression.

* * *

Harry is not lost. Just for clarification’s sake, he is _not lost_. He’s traveled through Viridian Forest before, been up and down, north, west, east, south—the whole of it. He can’t be lost. He isn’t lost.

He’s just…taking his time.

And that’s half true, if anything. Harry doesn’t have anywhere he needs to be, or anyone who he needs to visit. He’s just exploring, as he’s wont to do, and Viridian Forest is where he ended up. Maybe he’ll get some of Viridian City’s famous coffee once he’s through. That sounds like a plan—and then he can surf to Cinnabar Island with his Empoleon.

Before that…

Harry sniffs. Raichu is helping him unpack, the day already mostly gone, and they’re going to make camp before it gets too dark. If they did have to travel in the forest during the night, Noctowl could help out—and is, in fact, keeping watch as they speak—but he’s tired and hungry and done for the day.

The clearing they’re in isn’t particularly big, which is why his other larger Pokémon stay safe within their PokéBalls. Most of them like their space, and they’ve already got in a fair bit of exercise from battling the more aggressive residents today.

“Everything good, Noctowl?” Harry asks, throwing his head back to look into the tree branches above.

There’s a flutter of feathers, and then a replying hoot. They’re good for the night—no accidentally making camp in a Beedrill nest, no flock of Pidgeys resting a few meters away—so it’s about time to eat dinner and hit the hay. The tent’s set up, the sleeping bags are in, there’s enough branches for a small fire…

“Ah,” Harry mutters. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a bag of Pokéfood, and tosses a couple blocks up into the trees. Noctowl catches all of them and easily gulps it down.

“There. Now we’re all fed—well, except for you and me,” he says, addressing Raichu. “How about some soup? That sound good?”

His companion tilts his head, squeaking indifferently. He sparks up a fire for them anyway. Harry gets out his cold soup thermos to warm back up. It’ll be the last of it until he gets to Viridian for more ingredients—Raichu, on the other hand, gets a bowl of PokéBlocks and some water.

When dinner’s done and Harry’s all ready to slip into his sleeping bag and get some real rest, he doesn’t forget to take out his shiny Zubat plushie from his bag—the one Tom gave him for his birthday. It’s the exact type of softness against his skin that he likes, like he’s just thrown _the_ blanket into the dryer and got it out all nice, fluffy, and clean. Harry can’t help but hold it tightly to his chest and press his cheek against it.

How Tom found him the perfect gift, Harry doesn’t know, and depending on the answer, he probably doesn’t want to know either. Regardless, he’s thankful for the comfort the plushie brings. It’s even tied with the Snorlax Tsum Tsum he’s currently using as a pillow. It was one of the few presents Uncle Sev gifted him; given, he got it in the mail, but it’s the thought that counts. He’s had it since his tenth birthday and it’s weathered through a lot of adventures.

That Tom’s stupid cuddly Zubat plushie tied with his Snorlax Tsum Tsum is saying something. The spark of annoyance he feels in retaliation still isn’t enough to deter him though, and Harry snuggles deeper into his sleeping bag, plushie hugged to his chest.

He said he’d given it to him to think of him. Well, Tom sure got that part right. Harry wonders where his stalker is right now—whether or not he’s braving some dark cave or calming down another horde of wild Pokémon…or maybe the man is sailing the seas, swimming with Mantykes or Seakings or something. Harry thinks Tom’s that type of person—the type of trainer to go on fantastical adventures at his leisure, the type of trainer who’s as free as Harry wants to be…

He falls asleep to the soft snores of his Raichu and the watchful gaze of his Noctowl.

* * *

Harry wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking over a fire. At first he thinks it’s some other trainer who’s camped out in the woods nearby—everyone’s got to eat the most important meal of the day, after all—but then he realizes the smell’s way too close. Besides, he can hear the sizzle of bacon fat on the pan, and—

“Good morning, _darling_!”

…Tom. It’s Tom. Everything possibly good about this morning is immediately erased from Harry’s mind. In fact, now he just wants to go to sleep again. Maybe by the time he wakes up again, Tom will be gone and it’ll just be some silly nightmare he had. Yeah, that sounds likely; he _did_ fall asleep wondering what that prat was doing. It’s just his luck that he’s dreaming about him, too now.

“Now, now, none of that,” Tom chides, and Harry groans from where he’s trying to wriggle deeper into his sleeping bag. “Breakfast will be all gone if you don’t wake up now.”

“Don’ care,” Harry mumbles, even as his stomach makes an embarrassing noise. He hopes Tom didn’t hear that. “Sleep. Nightmare.”

“I’ll help you forget about your nightmare if you wake up,” Tom purrs.

“Not interested.”

“Darling, you wound me. I can show you a good time if you let me, you know?”

“Not interested times five.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you.”

Harry huffs at that, unzipping his sleeping bag and throwing the flap back. “Fine, I’m awake you jerk! Now why are you here?”

Tom ignores the question. “Breakfast?”

…Seeing as how his Pokémon are already happily eating away, _and_ he’s hungry, Harry drags himself up and plops down near the campfire. He shoots Noctowl a glare, muttering “traitor,” under his breath. He expects that sort of mutiny from Raichu, not Noctowl!

Undeterred, the bird Pokémon continues to eat his bacon bits. Harry sighs. “Breakfast, please.”

His stalker-turned-chef hums. “Scrambled eggs, just how you like them,” he says, loading up a plate. Harry is about to ask how Tom knows how he likes his eggs, but then he realizes there’s really no point in asking—just like how there’s no point in asking how Tom found his campsite. It’s too early to start picking fights anyway.

As if he knows what he’s thinking, Tom’s smile is the equivalence of patting Harry’s head, minus the touching. “By the way, good to know you liked my gift.”

“Wha’?”

Tom points. The Zubat plushie is still sticking out of his sleeping bag—good lord, Tom saw him sleeping with it. Tom saw him _hugging it_. Tom is probably assuming he does that every night, which he does, but that doesn’t mean he wants Tom knowing that! The man is already smug enough for a stalker, but with this? He won’t just be smug, he’ll be incorrigible!

“It was cold!” Harry shouts, flustered. Going back to sleep is the last thing on his mind.

“Of course it was, dear,” Tom says like a wife to her husband. “Viridian Forest gets awfully cold during the night. Though, I’m sure you’d like a warm body to hug instead of a plush toy—how about tonight we snuggle togeth—”

Tom has to stop what he’s saying to dodge Harry’s backpack.

* * *

“So why are you _actually_ here,” Harry asks, fully expecting nothing less than a comment about Tom’s stalkerish tendencies and his mission in life to woo Harry.

Surprisingly, his answer is different. “There’s a newbie trainer in Pewter City whose Pikachu ran away,” Tom replied. “I say ‘trainer,’ but he’s just a snot-nosed brat who befriended a Pikachu. He doesn’t even have a trainer ID. The point is, he never caught his Pikachu with a PokéBall, and so when the poor thing was frightened and ran off—”

“He couldn’t catch it,” Harry surmises. He raised his Raichu—he knew what a frightened Pikachu was like. Trying to raise it without a PokéBall was like trying to fish with only a fishing line, sans the rod. A kid trying to run after a scared Pikachu? He had better luck taking a Magikarp out on a walk.

“Precisely,” Tom says.

There’s a beat of silence where the only sound is of them walking through the foliage. It isn’t like Harry doesn’t think Tom does good things—he’d encountered him tracking down Team Muggle before, saving captured Pokémon and the like—it’s just…surprising to be reminded of the fact. Tom is a general nuisance when it involves Harry, so sometimes he just assumes that’s Tom’s default mindset. To be honest, he feels a little more than guilty right now.

It isn’t right to assume the worst of someone, yet here he is, doing just that.

“So you’re looking for it?” Harry asks, trying to disperse the overwhelming amount of guilt he’s starting to feel.

Tom hums inconclusively. “It stayed with him for a while, that Pikachu. They must’ve at least been friends. Normally, I wouldn’t care if an irresponsible trainer lost his Pokémon—that’s on them—but I met the kid. He’s not a trainer yet, and he just wanted his friend back…I imagine that’s true for the Pikachu as well. Besides, this is a good lesson for him when he does become a trainer.”

Harry nibbles on his lip. “When did it run away?”

“A few days ago,” Tom replies. “Which is long enough that it might be a lost cause, but I have reason to believe finding him is possible.”

Harry takes note of the pronoun. A male Pikachu, huh…well, those were certainly less skittish than females. They were still a shy species, but males had a bit more stubbornness to them. “What’ve you got?” he asks.

“The kid found him in the Viridian Forest, first of all. That means this is home. More than likely, he’ll stick around—though the kid did say that he didn’t find him at their usual haunts, there’s nowhere else for that Pikachu to go.”

“Viridian Forest is pretty big without any leads,” Harry notes.

Tom smirks. “Who said I didn’t have any leads?”

“Wha—” All of a sudden, Tom stops him by tugging on his hand. Harry doesn’t even recall when they’d gotten that close. He changes his question to, “What are you doing?”

“I was just thinking we make a pretty good pair, darling,” Tom says, smiling at him now. “What do you think about teaming up?”

Harry squints. “…For the Pikachu?” He half expects his stalker to say, ‘No, for life!’

“For the Pikachu,” Tom confirms. A beat passes and Harry is colored impressed, but then Tom opens up his mouth again and says, “And who knows, you might just fall in love with me along the way,” and all the respect he’s gained for him is lost.

“This team up is temporary and you’re leaving right after we find that Pikachu,” says Harry. He yanks his hand back and starts walking again.

“Why am _I_ the one who’s leaving?”

Without pausing once, he replies with, “Because I was here first. You really don’t expect me to believe that you _didn’t_ track me here, do you.”

Tom doesn’t even try to deny it. He shrugs in a ‘you-win-some-you-lose-some’ manner, and settles with a smug expression that makes Harry want to punch him in the face. Leave it to his stalker to make this _temporary_ team up a big deal! Harry huffs and speeds up, unsurprised when Tom matches his speed.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he asks.

Tom, unbothered, says, “I’m following you. Trust is a necessary foundation to a relationship, you know.”

“We’re _not_ in a relationship.”

“Our partnership says differently.”

Harry scowls. “This is a _temporary_ partnership and you’re a bloody menace!”

“Ah, but I’m _your_ bloody menace. Isn’t that right, darling?” Tom smiles, and smoothly dodges the tree branch Harry had pulled down to whack him.

* * *

Harry takes them to a small watering hole that he knows a nest of Pikachu usually hang around. It’s not a spot many know about—well hidden, it looks like a Pokémon sanctuary with Caterpies, Rattatas, Pidgeys and Butterfrees milling about. He then asks Raichu if he could find more information about the Pikachu gone missing, and waits in the tree line with Tom to avoid disturbing the Pokémon.

Raichu comes back squeaking in excitement, so he assumes he’s found a lead. Tom still looks smug.

* * *

Three dead ends, two other Pikachu, and one angry hoard of Beedrill later, Harry and Tom head back to Pewter City, tired mouse Pokémon in hand. The boy’s Pikachu is really just a baby—smaller than Raichu by half—which makes Harry all the gladder they found him. His family seems to be all gone, his only friend the boy, and the poor thing had been frightened and lost in the middle of a Weedle nest.

First thing’s first…

“Here,” Harry says, putting a PokéBall in Collin’s hand. The boy looks hopelessly lost still. “Lesson one of being a responsible trainer is to have PokéBalls for all of your Pokémon. This is a matter of safety—if they’ve already been caught, another trainer can’t take them, and if they get sick or scared, you can keep them inside until you get to a safe place.”

Collin sniffs and looks down at the Pikachu cradled in his arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I just—mum said I couldn’t be a trainer…”

“And she’s right,” Tom interrupts. “You’re too young. You need to pass a test to get a trainer card—but owning a Pokémon isn’t illegal. It’s only illegal to _battle_ without a trainer card.”

Collin looks hopeful. “So I can—?”

Harry smiles. He hopes it’s encouraging. “I think you’ve got to ask someone else for that.”

“Well, Pikachu? Whatd’ya say?”

Pikachu squeaks and butts his head against the PokéBall. Laughing in delight, Collin presses the center button and watches as his friend is bathed in red light, disappearing a moment later.

“You don’t have to keep him in there all the time,” Harry continues. “In fact, since he’s still little, it’d be a good idea to keep him out. Just make sure if he gets scared or sleepy, return him so we won’t get another wild chase, yeah?”

Collin nods vigorously. “Yeah, of course! Thank you so much!”

“It’d be a good idea to head to the PokéCenter and heal up,” adds Tom. “It’s been a trying few days for him.”

“Definitely! I’ll go do that now! Thanks!”

“And if you _do_ want to be a trainer, wait a few years and study hard for that test.”

“I will!”

Harry watches as the boy scurries off to the nearby PokéCenter, practically tripping over his own two feet in his enthusiasm. Collin is a good kid; he hopes he’ll be alright from now on. Well, now that that journey’s over…what was he doing before this again?

“So, are you in love with me yet?” Tom asks, leaning over his shoulder. It is really, really too close—Harry can feel his breath stir the strands of hair covering his ear—but Tom is as persistent as a Shellder on a Slowbro’s tail.

“The only thing I am right now is tired,” Harry declares, shoving him off. Surprisingly, Tom lets him. “Come on, Raichu. Let’s go.”

“To coffee?” Tom asks, stepping up beside him from behind. “I’d love to. There’s this nice place around the corner—”

“ _No_.”

“We did a good deed together—that’s got to mean _something_ ,” he argues.

“Yeah—it means I’ll go my way; you’ll go yours. Partnership’s over.” Harry hopes. He picks up his pace just in case.

“That’s what _you_ think,” Tom mutters under his breath. He’s already pulling out his PokéGear to check for nearby disasters on the League network—anything ranging from a Meowth stuck in a tree to a rampaging Nidoking. After a bit of rest, that’s where Harry will probably end up…and Tom will ‘coincidentally’ be there, waiting in the wings.

What’s the good of being the Pokémon Champion if he can’t abuse his position a bit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes; Tom is a good person by ulterior motive, not heart (which arguably does not make him a good person period, but semantics). It's only right that Harry doesn't get (completely) conned. Yet. Well, he'll figure it out later...as you all know :P.
> 
> Funny how Harry indirectly makes Tom do his job. If only the Elite Four knew; they'd be thanking him...
> 
> (If the non-chronological order is throwing you off, this chapter is placed _after_ the truly coincidental run-ins Harry and Tom have; Tom is currently in his shameless stalker stage, so definitely after chapter 3 but before chapter 4 (and consequentially 5).
> 
> My birthday is on Sunday! Happy birthday to me ^_^/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Plushies and Phone Charms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737144) by [StalkerOfStories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StalkerOfStories/pseuds/StalkerOfStories)




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